Crown Duel

by Sherwood Smith

  By sunup I was on my way again. Remembering that nasty comment about the filthy dockside beggar, I dusted myself off and straightened my bodice and skirt. I took the added precaution of wrapping my braid around my head in a coronet, tucking the end under, then retying the kerchief. This way, I hoped, I looked as anonymous as possible.

  My ankle felt much the same as it had the previous morning. Good. It would last if I was careful. I ate as I walked, resolving to find something to use as a cane. Around me were rolling hills, some forest-covered. This made for nice cover and some protection from the intermittent rain, but unfortunately the clouds were so thick and low they thoroughly obscured the sun—and the distant mountains. I had nothing to guide myself by.

  I tried to choose larger hills to traverse, figuring that this would bring me steadily east and mountainward. It was good theory but bad practice—which I didn’t realize until I topped a rocky cliff and looked down at a wide river meandering its way along. It had to be the Akaeriki—there was no river this large north of Remalna-city except the Akaeriki. All our smaller rivers intersected it at some point.

  I glanced back. Tired, footsore, I did not want to simply retrace my steps. So I walked along the ridge parallel to the river, looking for an easy way to cross.

  On the far side was the main Akaeriki road. Twice I saw the continuous stream of traffic pull aside for galloping formations of spear-carrying warriors. The second time I saw them riding headlong toward the west, my worry was replaced by a kind of gloating triumph.

  This gave me the impetus to push on, threading my way steadily through increasingly wild country. The rain had largely abated, though out on the horizon a solid black line of clouds made me determined not to stop for the night until I’d found some kind of substantial shelter.

  The impending rain was on my mind when I reached an intersecting path that led down an ancient ravine to an old, narrow bridge. No one was on it. As I watched, hesitating, a white-bearded shepherd approached from the other side, clucking to a flock of sheep.

  No one appeared to disturb them as they crossed. A short time later the sheep appeared on the path below me, and I ducked behind a rock as they trotted by, followed up by their shuffling human.

  One more glance—and I slipped down the trail and stepped out onto the bridge, which vibrated with each step. Avoiding looking down at the rocky river below, I hurried across, then stepped onto the bank with a sense of relief.

  I scurried across the road, seeing only a boy driving a cart loaded with hay. Scrambling up the low ridge on the other side, I soon achieved the relative safety of a scattering of trees.

  And so for a time—bells echoed through the valley, tolling second-green and third-green—I walked above the road where days ago I had been taken in the other direction by Shevraeth on his dapple-gray, then the coach, and finally the cavalcade. I fumed over that horrible journey as I toiled through grass and over stones and the thick tree roots of ancient hemlock.

  The forestland thickened, then opened onto a new road. Fading behind a screen of ferns, I watched the traffic. It appeared I’d reached a major crossroads. A stone marker at the intersection indicated the Akaeriki road downhill, leading to the small town of Thoresk.

  A town. Surely one anonymous female could lose herself in a town? And while she was at it, find some shelter?

  Big raindrops started plopping in the leaves around me. The coming storm wouldn’t be warded by tree branches and leaves, that was for certain. Clutching my half-empty basket to my side, I started up the road, careful not to limp if anyone came into view from the opposite direction.

  I spotted a line of slow wagons up ahead, with a group of small children gamboling around them. I hurried my pace slightly so I would look like I belonged with them; I had nearly caught up when a deep thundering rumble vibrated up from the ground.

  “Cavalcade! Cavalcade!” a high childish voice shrieked.

  The farmers clucked at their oxen and the wagons hulked and swung, metal frames creaking, over to one side. The children ran up the grassy bank beside the road, hopping and shrieking with excitement.

  Feeling my knees go watery, I scrambled up the bank as well, then sat in the grass with my basket on my lap. I checked my kerchief surreptitiously and snatched my hand down as two banner-carrying outriders galloped into view around the bend I’d walked so shortly before.

  Behind the outriders a single rider cantered on a nervous white horse. The rider was short but strongly built. A gray beard, finicky mustache, and long hair marked him as a noble; his mouth and eyes were narrowed, whether in habit or in anger I didn’t know—but my instinctive reaction to him was fear.

  He wore the plumed helm of a commander, and his battle tunic was brown velvet. He had passed by before I realized that I had very nearly come face-to-face with Baron Nenthar Debegri, Galdran Merindar’s former—and now present—commander.

  Then behind him came row on row of warriors, all formidably armed, riding three abreast. Dust and mud flew from the horses’ hooves, and the noise was enough to set the oxen bellowing in distress and pulling at their traces. Seven, eight, nine ridings—a full wing.

  A full wing of warriors, all to search for me? I didn’t know whether to laugh or to faint in terror. So I sat there numbly and watched them all ride by—a very strange kind of review.

  As the end of the cavalcade at last drew nigh, the children were already skidding down the bank. I caught a glimpse of a change in color, and paused. Instead of rows of brown-and-green battle gear, the last portion were in blue with black and white, their device three stars above a coronet. This was the Renselaeus device . . . my gaze was drawn to the single rider leading their formation.

  A single rider on a dapple-gray. Tall in the saddle, long blond hair flying in the wind, hat so low it shadowed the upper portion of his face.

  The Marquis of Shevraeth rode jingling by. As he drew abreast of where I sat, his head lifted slightly, turned, and he stared straight into my eyes.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  My heart gave one great thump and scampered like the rat they’d called me as the gray rode on unchecked, followed by the remainder of the cavalcade.

  The oxen drivers and their children moved slowly onto the road, the adults exclaiming and wondering what was going on, and the children whooping and waving imaginary swords.

  The only thought in my mind was to put as much distance as possible between that town and myself.

  Go west, I thought. They won’t expect that.

  I turned my steps into the forest from which I’d emerged, hurrying as fast as I could.

  In the meantime my mind was busy arguing with itself. I could see Shevraeth’s face clearly—as if the moment had been painted against the insides of my eyelids. It was impossible to say that there had been recognition; maybe only a reminder. His expression certainly hadn’t changed from a kind of resigned boredom.

  And it’s not like he’s ever seen me with a clean face, I thought, grimacing as I remembered that bearded man’s description. My hair was hidden, I was wearing a gown usually worn by prosperous farm girls, and of course I’d been sitting, so there was no limp or bandage to give me away.

  Just a scare, I told myself. He was watching the crowd to pass the time. But my heart persisted in hammering at my ribs, and my feet sped along as though fire burned at my heels.

  The rain was coming down in earnest when I dropped onto a footpath. With relief I turned and followed this, and I soon emerged from the forest into a sheltered little dell.

  The welcome gold of lit windows glowed through the gathering darkness. I was in a tiny village.

  They can’t possibly find me here, I hoped as I splashed down the path. Probably no one but the inhabitants even knows where the village is.

  Heartened, I scouted my way around the nearest buildings, and when I found a huge barn, I didn’t hesitate to slip inside.

  It had to be a common barn; there were numerous animals housed inside. But it was warm and dry, and
someone had even left a lamp sitting on a hen coop inside the door.

  I looked around. A hayloft and a ladder! In the space of three breaths I was up it and lying down on a pile of fresh, sweet-smelling hay. Shivering from my wet clothes, I wished I dared to take them off as I rummaged in my basket for some food.

  The bread had grown hard and the cheese dry, but the fruit was still tasty. I decided I’d better finish the last of the bread, and save the fruit tart for the morrow. After that, I’d be on my own.

  As if to taunt me, savory food smells wafted up to my rafter. I sighed—then realized that the door below must have been opened. I rolled over and stared into a pair of wary green eyes.

  “Awk!” I squeaked.

  The eyes crinkled. The owner took another step up the ladder, and I faced a buxom young woman around my own age, with a cloud of curling red hair. Her face was moon-round, her eyes interested. “You left wet footprints across the dirt,” she said.

  I sighed. “It’s the storm. I was on my way home, and it rained so very hard, and I’ll go if you like.”

  She shrugged, smiling a little. “Truth is, I don’t care a bit, but if Grandfer comes out, he’ll raise a ruckus. Inn does bad enough in these times, as he reminds us every time we want a new hair ribbon or a coin to go to the fair.”

  “Haven’t any coins. Shall I sweep the prints away?”

  “I will, soon’s I feed the animals.” She winked. “Go ahead and sleep. I won’t tell—truth is, times aplenty I’ve thought of running away from Grandfer, except what would I do to earn my keep anywhere else except tend farm stock? May’s well do that at home, for who’s to say that anyone who might hire me might not be three times worse?”

  She thinks I’m a runaway apprentice. “Oh, thank you!”

  She shrugged again, started down, then stopped when her eyes were once more level with the edge of the rafter. They crinkled as she said, “I wish you’d been a handsome boy instead, for then I’d demand a kiss as payment.”

  And with a gurgling laugh, she descended the rest of the way.

  I chewed at my tough bread and listened to the rain on the roof and the pleasant sounds of the animals getting their food. Presently I heard the rhythmic wisping of a broom, and then the door closed.

  It seemed I’d only drifted off to sleep when light flickered into my dreams. I opened my eyes on the red-haired girl clutching a candle whose flame flickered wildly. Her face was white with excitement and fear.

  “Are you a countess?” she whispered.

  A pang smote my chest, and I sat up. “Who is out there?”

  She pointed behind her. “Warriors. A whole riding, at least. And a lord. Rings, a sword—” She gestured, obviously impressed, then the fear was back. “Going from house to house. I told Grandfer I was checking on the cow about to calve,” she added from down on the barn floor. “If they find out you’re her—”

  “I’ll go.”

  She was gone in a trice, leaving me to feel my way down in the darkness. Leastwise if I can’t see, no one can see me—unless they have a torch, and then I’ll see their light first, I thought.

  The barn had several doors. I eased one open a crack as somewhere nearby a horse shifted weight and nickered softly. Terrified that the sound would carry, I slipped out the door and shut it.

  Rain hit me in the face, hard and cold. I stumbled out into it, my feet splashing in deep puddles. Running as fast as I could, I crossed behind another building and then nearly hit a tree. Its ferny leaves slapped my face, warning me to slow right before I reached the bole of a mighty hemlock. I tucked my basket securely up under my arm and climbed the tree as high as I could reach.

  Shivering, my fingers and toes numb, I stared down through the branches at the flickering lights; over the steady roar of the rain horses’ hooves drummed, then the streaming torches bounced away up a trail and disappeared.

  I clung to the tree until my arms were so numb I couldn’t tell if I was holding on or not. This made me panicky again. With excruciating care and slowness, I climbed down.

  When at last I reached the muddy ground I lingered, wishing I dared to retreat to the barn again. But I remembered those threats about “harboring the fugitive” and “death,” and reluctantly felt my way deeper into the forest, until the growth around me was so tangled the rain was a mere nuisance instead of a downpour.

  Worming my way into the thickest part of a patch of ferns, I curled up and passed the remainder of a miserable night. Sleep was intermittent, for sudden drips of cold on my skin, or the tickle of some unseen insect, would keep jerking me awake. The night seemed endless, but at last a bleak, cheerless blue light lifted the shadows enough for me to make out the shapes of branches and foliage. By then I had wound myself into a tight ball, and what little warmth I could generate made me ill inclined to move.

  But I knew I had to move eventually, if only to better shelter. My joints ached, my foot itched, and I was afraid that once again I might get sick, and this time there would be no Ara and her nice family to rescue me.

  I stayed still until shafts of yellow stabbed into my hidey-hole. The sun had come out. Hoping for warmth, I struck out more vigorously, making my way westward into the forest from sun patch to sun patch.

  oOo

  By noon I had dried out. I stopped once and beat as much of the dirt off my clothes as I could, which made my skirts less stiff, if marginally cleaner looking. When I came to a stream I washed my face and hands. I did not want to look like that filthy dockside beggar they were noising about over half the countryside.

  On my walk I ate the last of my food, and when I found another stream, I drank enough to fill my middle.

  Now I had an additional worry: finding food. And as the day wore on, it became increasingly obvious that this was going to be as hard as staying out of sight of searchers.

  When I reached the end of the patch of forest I was ready to run out into the bright sunshine—but before I’d passed the last tree I saw a line of riders racing across a distant field.

  Ducking instinctively behind the tree, I peered over a branch, shading my eyes against the glare of the sun. They rode in two-by-two formation, and were not following any road.

  Now, it might have been the riders had nothing to do with me, but I was not about to take that chance. As I studied the rolling terrain, I realized that they probably had me boxed in. They knew approximately where I was—that business the night before made it pretty clear—but not exactly. As for my part, I had to spot their outer perimeter…and get beyond it.

  And get something to eat.

  Without endangering any innocent people.

  As I leaned on that tree branch watching the diminishing line of searchers, I was intensely aware of how alone I was—but it was not the same terrible, helpless feeling I’d had when I first discovered that I was a prisoner. Then I couldn’t walk and couldn’t get free. Now I was free, and I could walk, and as I remembered what Ara had said about that accursed Shevraeth and his abominable friend making sport of finding me, I got angry. There is nothing like good, honest, righteous anger to infuse a person with energy.

  All right, I thought. Either I keep blundering around in circles, or else I locate these searchers—they have to be a limited number—and then move in the opposite direction.

  I turned east again, and started stumping along in the direction the cross-country racers had gone.

  I crossed two hills, cresting the last to look down into a pleasant little valley. Water ribboned between the hills from a small lake, probably going to join up with the Akaeriki. Along the lakeside lay a small town. There was no sign of my search party anywhere around; they were probably in the town. So I found a good spot in the shelter of a thick shrub—for by then the sun was hot—made certain that no part of me formed a silhouette, and sat down to watch.

  I was fighting drowsiness when they finally emerged and started riding across the hills. I stared after them until my eyes watered. They kept disappearing beyond the hills
but then eventually reappeared, each time getting smaller and smaller. Then they disappeared for a long time: another village or town. I made myself wait and watch. Again I was trying not to nod off when I saw a second line appear on the crest of a hill on the other lip of the valley.

  The urge to sleep fled. I watched the line—it was a long one this time, with tiny bright dots at the front that indicated banners—descend into the town.

  The banners meant the commander. Was the marquis still with him, or had he finally gotten bored and gone back to the silk-and-velvet life in Athanarel?

  “You might contemplate the purpose of a court…” You brainless, twaddling idiot, I thought scornfully. I wished he were before me. I wished I could personally flout him and his busy searchers, and make him look like the fool he was. And watch the reaction, and walk away laughing.

  While I was indulging these fulminations, the long line emerged again, much more quickly than the previous one had. Delight suffused me: They had obviously discovered that the previous group had been there, and had probably decided that the place was therefore safe.

  Excellent. Then that was where I would go.

  oOo

  The sun was setting and a cold wind had started fretting the tops of the grasses and fingering my skirts and kerchief when I topped the last rise on my approach to the lakeside town. Keeping well to the undergrowth, I skirted the place, looking for a likely hidey-hole, preferably one in which I might also find something to eat. Barns seemed the best choice. I had only to sneak in when the owners were safely abed. And maybe there’d be some early vegetables or even some preserves.

  I waited until dark had fallen and then started slinking my way down along someone’s garden wall. After dropping onto a brick pathway, I straightened up with my basket on my arm and tried to look unconcerned. People were walking about, and the ironwork lamps on poles lighting the streets indicated this was customary. Obviously this wasn’t a market town that closed its doors at sundown. Perhaps it was one of those towns where wealthy merchants bought a second house in pleasant surroundings for purely social purposes. Certainly a lakeside would be pleasant enough.